


This Noise Inside My Head

by WuNsChKiNd89



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Asexuality, Bilbo likes to pretend he's fine, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, what's with all the supernatural tags?, whatever floats your boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WuNsChKiNd89/pseuds/WuNsChKiNd89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo has nightmares about the fight with Azog after escaping the Goblin tunnels, and goes several nights without sleep. He thinks he hides it well, but most of the dwarves figure something is up. They make it to Beorn's before he finally succumbs to exhaustion, with some help along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"It won't give up, it wants me dead, and goddamn this noise inside my head"_ \- The Becoming, Nine Inch Nails.

Standard Disclaimers! Characters/places/etc. etc. belong to Tolkien & Jackson, mistakes are mine.

 ---

They descended from the Carrock slowly. Most of the company was tired and sore; a combination of the escape from Goblin Town and subsequent fight against Azog and his warg-riders, and a long, uncomfortable flight on the backs of the Eagles of Manwe. When they reached the base early in the afternoon, they stopped at the little river to bathe and treat their wounds; as most had any number of bruises, scratches, and minor burns.

Bilbo sighed as he leaned against the trunk of a great tree, “If my feet ever leave the ground again I shall give my head a shake, Hobbits are most certainly not meant for mountains and climbing,” he muttered to himself. Ironic, that, considering their destination. He watched impassively as the Dwarrows quickly divested themselves of clothing and waded into the river.

“’Ere Bilbo, aren’t ye gonna have a wash?” Bofur called over to him.

Bilbo blinked himself out of reverie, his mind having gone curiously blank. “Oh, yes I suppose I am,” he responded. Suddenly he was all too-aware of the layer of dirt and grime coating his – well, everything now that he thought about it. He walked to the river, nose scrunching in response to the sensation. He quickly stripped and carried his filthy clothing into the flow of the water, scrubbing as best he could before laying the garments on the bank to dry. He went back in just as Fili and Kili went gallivanting by, soaking everything and everyone within a 20-foot radius, and quickly scrubbed himself clean.

Eventually everyone made their way out of the water to lie on the soft grass and dry in the sun. Bilbo sat gingerly with his back to a tree and watched as Oin made his rounds, checking everyone’s injuries. He’d been about to doze off when he heard the heavy footsteps of the medic. “How do you fare Master Baggins?” Oin questioned as he grasped Bilbo’s face and checked his pupils.

“Nothing more serious than some bruising, I assure you,” Bilbo responded. He was stiff and sore all over, but certain that nothing had been broken. Oin pulled some ointment out of his pocket and handed it to the hobbit.

“Apply this to any bruises or burns before you dress,” he instructed. Bilbo thanked the medic and Oin nodded before walking away.

Gloin and Bombur had dug a pit and gotten a fire started. Bilbo applied the cream to the worst of his bruising, then stood up to pull his now-dry clothing back on before moving into the circle of warmth the fire was merrily giving off.

Fili and Kili wandered back into the clearing with a pair of rabbits in their clutches. “These ought to help improve supper!” Kili exclaimed with his typical enthusiasm, still present even after everything from the past few days. He watched as the brothers sat next to the fire to clean them and add the meat to the pathetically watery stew, made from what remained of their supplies.

Bilbo rifled through his pockets, fingers brushing the strange golden ring he’d taken from the tunnels, as he searched desperately for his pipe and weed. “Oh bugger, where did that pipe go! A good smoke would definitely do me good right now,” he grumbled under his breath, pulling said pipe out and inhaling deeply once it was filled and lit.

After a moment a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, causing Bilbo to startle slightly and release the smoke still held in his lungs. “Master Baggins, are you well?” Thorin asked as he came up beside Bilbo, who waved away the smoke in front of his face as he cleared his throat. 

“Ahhm I – yes, I will survive I think,” Bilbo responded, with a quirk of his lips, “what of yourself, Thorin? I understand your wounds were a good deal more severe than the rest of us have suffered,” he turned partially towards the Dwarf as he asked.

Thorin’s eyebrow arched, and the hand still on Bilbo’s shoulder fell away. “I have sustained no injuries that I cannot recover from,” – at Bilbo’s stone-faced look, he continued – “I am in some pain, but I have experienced worse before. A full night’s rest and I should be much improved on the morrow,” Thorin explained quietly.

Bilbo “hmmed” in response; after all there really wasn’t anything he could offer the stoic Dwarf to reduce his discomfort. He watched as Thorin pulled out a small pouch, then made a small noise of disgust at its empty state. “Are you out of pipeweed, Thorin?” the Hobbit asked. At the answering nod, Bilbo offered up his own (much-depleted) stash. “I’m afraid my Old Toby is lighter than the more robust variety you Dwarrows seem to prefer, but it is better than nothing,” he explained.

“My thanks, Master Baggins. Indeed, I could find myself becoming accustomed to Hobbit pipeweed,” Thorin replied as he packed his pipe. They stood in companionable silence for a time, smoking and watching the activity of the camp, until Gandalf moved forward to address the Company.

“I always meant to see you all safe (if possible) over the mountains, and now by good management _and_ good luck I have done it. Indeed we are now a good deal further east than I ever meant to come with you, for after all this is not my adventure,” the wizard began, to the loud distress of the Company, “I am not going to disappear this very instant – probably I can help you out of your present plight, for we have little food, and no baggage, and no ponies to ride; and you don’t know where you are.” There was some grumbling at this, for the wizard’s help, if it could be called that, was only ever given at the discretion of the wizard.

“You are still some miles north of the path which we should have been following, and very few people live in these parts. There is _somebody_ I know of, who lives not far away. We must go and find him; and if all goes well at our meeting, I think I shall be off and wish you like the eagles ‘farewell wherever you fare’,” Gandalf concluded. He then turned to advise Thorin directly: “There is not enough light remaining this day to make the journey, and bears prowl the woods ahead in darkness; it would be wise to hold here and begin tomorrow.”

Thorin took a look around the makeshift camp, then agreed, for there was a small cave at the base of the Carrock that offered some small protection. “We stay here this night; eat and rest as best we can, and be ready to move at first light,” Thorin announced to the Dwarrows and Hobbit.

The remainder of the evening was spent in quiet conversation around the fire, everybody quickly succumbing to sleep after the harrowing days previous.

 

_Bilbo was back in the burning pine tree, watching the scene unfold with a surreal sense of deja vu. Being chased off the ground by the warg pack, and leaping tree to tree as the trunks folded under the weight of the beasts. The last remaining tree leaning precariously over the precipice - it was all the same. He watched as Thorin caught sight of his greatest foe, the horror stronger this time around for the anticipation and knowledge of what was coming. Thorin storming out of the tree; charging down the pale orc in a mad quest for vengeance. Bilbo's eyes stung as he watched, the screaming inside his head - echoing the screaming of his companions - to move, to get up, to do something!_

_Only once Thorin was snapped up in the maw of the white warg did the spell break, and Bilbo's limbs obeyed the commands of his brain; gaining his feet on the branch, and moving back onto solid ground. He sprinted hard as Thorin hit the ground, but he seemed to be moving through molasses. Desperation grew thick in his heart and in his mind, as he watched the order of execution given by Azog as Thorin struggled to reach Orcrist._

_Bilbo tore his eyes away to look down, for try as he might he seemed no closer to Thorin than he was a moment - was it only a moment? - ago. He stood ankle-deep in a thick, black liquid; orc blood. It clung to his feet and crawled its way up his shins, fastening him in place._

_Behind him Bilbo could still hear the frantic shouts of the Company in the tree. The Hobbit looked over his shoulder, perhaps to apologize, only to find Gandalf missing and the Dwarrows plummeting one by one to their doom. Turning back, Bilbo choked on his own despair as he watched the goblin approaching Thorin, who was now unconscious. Tears of frustration fell as Bilbo watched the scene in front of him, now weirdly sped up. Watched the blade descend toward Thorin's unprotected neck, a spray of blood, and -_

 

Bilbo's eyes flew open, chest heaving, heart pounding. His back shot off the ground as he sat up, wildly looking around to do a head-count: Dwalin-Balin-Fili-Kili-Dori-Nori-Ori-Oin-Gloin-Bifur-Bofur-Bombur-Thorin. All safe. Bilbo took a breath. All whole and healthy. Another breath. All still sleeping; with the exception of Dwalin sitting guard, who was polite enough to give Bilbo the illusion of privacy.

Bilbo got up and headed for the little river they had bathed in earlier, giving a nod to Dwalin as he went by. He waded in until the cold water was halfway to his knees, peering down and feeling somewhat reassured by the sight of pale skin beneath wooly hair, free of any blood. Bilbo knelt and cupped some water in his hands to splash on his face, washing away the sweat clinging to his skin and hoping to clear his mind of all remnants of the nightmare. Straightening, the Hobbit turned his eyes to the bright half-moon and tapestry of stars overhead, concentrating on just breathing.

Returning to the camp some time later, Balin - who was now on watch - offered a soft, comforting smile that Bilbo took as an invitation to sit. They sat in an easy quiet; the Dwarf keeping questions about why Bilbo was up to himself and the Hobbit not wanting to revisit the nightmare so soon, simply enjoying the warm firelight and solid presence of a friend. He remained there until the sun broke over the horizon, when the Company around him began to stir.

\---

It took no time at all to get everyone ready to leave since most of their possessions were still deep below Goblintown, so Gandalf urged them on for an early start towards the Someone he knew. Bilbo walked with the Wizard near to the back of the line, and thought it quite odd that Gandalf walked with his head cocked to the side, as if he were listening intently. "Does something follow us, Gandalf?"

"Not that I can detect, though I do not wish to be caught again by the orcs and goblins that are surely on our tail. We outran them with the help of the Eagles, but only temporarily," the Wizard replied, glancing at Bilbo before resuming his trek.

Everyone was exhausted and hungry, and most of them were still hurting from various wounds. The time passed in a haze for Bilbo, who hadn't slept since entering the Misty Mountains, and there weren't any meals to mark the passage of time. They stopped a couple times for short breaks, but Gandalf pushed them as hard as he dared. Bilbo focused singularly on putting one foot in front of the other without stumbling.

The sun had dropped to the horizon when the first of the howls sounded behind them. Bilbo blinked himself back to awareness as everyone froze. The Hobbit looked behind him, back the way they came, then looked to Gandalf, who had moved to the front of the Company.

"Run!" Gandalf cried, "We are near to our destination!" They all took off at a run.

The howl behind them sounded again, closer and louder than before. Bilbo couldn't quite contain the gasp when answering howls sounded to the sides, and peered wildly through the growing gloom even though on some level he knew he would not see them coming. Bilbo's fear and desperation were mounting with every step, and he stumbled when the wargs howled yet again. A hand fisted in his collar, hauling the Hobbit back to his feet before he even hit the ground and pushed him on. "Aint no time for resting yet Bilbo!" Bofur called, his usual cheery voice strangely incongruous with the strain present on his face.

"Rest? Who needs rest? Certainly not this Hobbit!" Bilbo huffed in response, his attempt at sarcasm somewhat ruined by the gasping breaths interrupting his sentence.

Another chorus of howls seemingly right on the heels of the company cut off any further conversation, followed by barking and growling and whooping and Bilbo remembered thinking _those wargs and orcs sound much too close for comfort_ and suddenly there was a great black blur shooting past, and the snapping of their pursuers suddenly changed, the growling becoming shrieks of pain and panic.

The Company tore through the edge of the forest and into a clearing. "There, that is our destination!" cried Gandalf, hurrying towards what appeared to be a large house surrounded by sprawling gardens. Not that any of the Company, Bilbo included, even noticed their surroundings; entirely focused on the front door of the building drawing close. None had even noticed the lack of pursuit or the sudden silence behind them. They piled through the door, those behind pushing those in front further inside. Bilbo ended up bodily shoved to the side, where he promptly dropped to his knees desperately trying to catch his breath. When he finally lifted his head again, it was to come nose to nose with a gray dog. A very tall dog that towered over him where he kneeled; if the Hobbit were standing he would have stood at the same level as the dog's eyes. He let out a frightened yelp and fell back, trying to scramble away, but the dog just sat on its haunches with its tongue lolling comically. Bilbo couldn't decide if he was imagining the amused look in its intelligent eyes.

"You're not afraid of dogs, are you Bilbo?" asked Fili, walking up to the hound and scratching it behind the ear.

"I think I've had my fill of canines recently, thank you. I'll just stay put here if you don't mind," he responded curtly. Bilbo had never had a problem with any kind of animal before, but indeed after being chased all over Yavanna's creation he wanted no part of anything remotely dog-like for the time being. Said dog turned and began to walk away, then looked back at the group of Dwarrows + Hobbit + Wizard still congregating at the door (peeking out, searching for pursuit that was no longer there), and gestured with its head as if to follow it. Fili exchanged a look with Thorin, shrugged, and followed after the dog; the rest of the company moving to do the same. Bilbo looked up when a hand appeared in front of his nose, to see Thorin standing before him.

"Come Master Hobbit, surely being hosted by dogs and sheep cannot be so bad," he remarked, as behind him various animals were moving around (some upright on two legs!) preparing a table. He pulled Bilbo to his feet, and steadied him when his shaky legs threatened to dump him back on the ground. Thorin's brow furrowed slightly as he studied the Hobbit in front of him.

"I'm fine Thorin, thank you, simply tired," Bilbo decided to head off the obvious concern in the Dwarf's eyes, placing a hand on the arm still holding him. Thorin nodded in response and led them to the table.

As they sat and ate, Gandalf explained that the house and animals belonged to a shapeshifter called Beorn, and proceeded to outline various warnings and suggestions for how not to anger the man and subsequently be ripped to shreds by a gigantic bear on a rampage.

After the fabulous supper provided by Beorn's animals Bilbo went to his straw mattress with little delay, for now that his belly was full he could hardly keep his eyes open. Indeed, the Hobbit had almost dozed off at the table, and Bofur had suggested that a plate of mashed potatoes wouldn't make for a very nice pillow. Most of the Dwarrows followed his lead, but some remained awake at the central fire to have a smoke and discuss the plan going forward. Bilbo shed his outer clothes and crawled under the wool blankets, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

\---

Sleep would not remain with Bilbo for long however, for what felt to him like mere minutes later, his eyes snapped open again at the tail end of what was becoming a recurring nightmare. The pine trees, the wargs, Azog and Thorin. Exactly as it had been before. Bilbo could not have been asleep long, for he noted several Dwarrows still awake around the central hearth as he counted the Company, assuring himself everyone was present and safe. Thankfully his distress had been masked by the roaring snores of Bombur and Bifur only a few feet away, and Bilbo lay on his mattress until the familiar sawing had settled his nerves somewhat.

For a time Bilbo drifted in that strange place between sleep and awareness, until finally he rose and went to sit with the Dwarrows still awake. Thorin and Balin sat together near the fire, pipes in hand, armchairs pulled close and talking quietly. He offered a small smile to Thorin when the Dwarf looked over, silently trying to reassure at the first hints of concern brewing in his eyes. Bilbo briefly wondered what they were discussing so seriously - planning the next stage of the journey perhaps? - before moving over to where Ori, Fili and Kili sat playing a card game. He watched them play for a time and the three of them tried to explain how the game worked, before deciding it was much too complicated for him to try and pick up this late. Or early. Either way Bilbo was too tired to grasp the concept of the game.

He sat with the three young Dwarrows while they played, the company preferable to solitude in his current frame of mind, lost in his own thoughts and thinking of home. He wondered if his smial was still his, or if his nosy relatives had ransacked it yet. He wondered if his neighbour and friend, Hamfast Gamgee, was still taking care of the gardens, or if he'd given Bilbo up for dead and let the place go. He wondered about his cousin Drogo Baggins (one of the few Bagginses he actually liked), what he was up to and how he fared, whether he had made any progress with Primula Brandybuck. He wondered what the Shire would be like when (if, given how dangerous this adventure had turned out to be) he returned home. Then Bilbo snorted to himself and shook his head when he realized where that train of thought had gone. Very little ever changed in the Shire.

Bilbo jumped at the sound of chairs scraping beside him, and looked up to see Fili cleaning up the card game. "Well gents, it's been a pleasure playing -" as he gathered up his winnings: what little pipe-weed the other two had left to gamble with, "- but I'm ready to hit the hay. Sweet dreams!" and with a giant, self-satisfied grin he marched off to his bed. Kili gave an exasperated sigh, before following. Bilbo just shook his head in silent fondness.

"Are you alright, Bilbo? You look exhausted," Ori asked timidly from where he remained seated across from him. He looked over at the Dwarf as Ori studied him intently. The Hobbit held back a sigh of his own, but only just. Ori could be surprisingly persistent if he wanted to help someone, and Bilbo really didn't want to draw his attention.

"Yes, I'm alright Ori. I am a bit tired, but I don't think I could sleep just yet," The Dwarf in question raised his eyebrows and continued to hold Bilbo's gaze. "Have you ever been tired to the point of not being able to sleep? As if my body is so used to staying awake that I can't shut it down," Bilbo offered, hoping it would be enough of an explanation - _excuse,_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered - that Ori would let it drop.

The Dwarf gave him a quizzical look, "How odd! I suppose Hobbits are different, but we Dwarrows are generally able to sleep at the drop of a hat, a product of our lifestyle I assume. When travelling or fighting battles (or so I've heard, not that I've seen much battle outside this Quest), we must catch what sleep we can, when we can, and it develops into a habit of sorts," he paused, seeming to have been struck by another thought, "Whenever I used to have trouble sleeping, though, I found that reading sometimes helped," he finished.

Bilbo blinked. "That's a good idea, Ori! My mother used to read to me as a child when I couldn't sleep. It certainly can't do me any harm, and I believe I remember seeing a few books stuffed in a corner earlier," the Hobbit said, looking to said corner, "Thank you. I won't keep you up if you wish to retire though," he said, almost as an afterthought, as he stood to go investigate the books. It really did seem to be late; Balin was now alone at the hearth, staring absent-mindedly into the flames. All the other Dwarves, and Gandalf, were fast asleep.

"Goodnight then Bilbo. Sleep well," Ori responded with a small smile and a friendly pat on the back, and he too moved off to bed. Bilbo silently moved to the pile of books in the corner and grabbed the one on top without look at it, and sat in an armchair within the circle of firelight. After making it through a few pages (which took far longer than it normally would have, as Bilbo kept re-reading passages, or would realize that he'd been staring at a word without actually reading it) the Hobbit looked up and realized he was alone; Balin had gone to his bed at some point.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, until he started seeing flashes of burning trees and the glint of steel behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes and settled for watching his companions where they slept off to the side of the great hall, propping his chin on his hand. His whole body ached, and was sluggish whenever he moved. There was a pounding at his temples and the base of his skull, and his eyes were gritty and stinging no matter how much he blinked. After realizing he was yet again staring off into space, Bilbo heaved a sigh and continued reading.

Eventually the sky began to lighten, and there was a light shuffling as Beorn's curious animals began to arrange the morning meal. Bilbo put the book aside and went out onto the porch to watch the sunrise, hoping the early-morning air (and a smoke, as he lit up his pipe) would clear some of the cobwebs from his head. As he sat, he could hear the Dwarrows inside rousing from their beds and eagerly (noisily) begin their breakfast.

"Well I guess I should go in, if I don't claim some breakfast soon there won't be a scrap left!" The Hobbit muttered to himself, and turned to go back inside, tapping out his pipe as he went.

After a small breakfast (exhaustion tended to dull his appetite), he decided his only hope of staying awake through the day was to wander outside in the summer sun, and so he spent the majority of the day enjoying Beorn's gardens.

\---

Bilbo lay on his straw mattress wishing desperately for sleep. He couldn't remember ever being so tired, or having gone so long without proper sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Thorin beheaded and felt the anguish of the rest of the Company falling to their deaths. He lay there staring at the ceiling, before deciding that a cup of tea would at least offer some comfort. Getting up, Bilbo went over to the dining table, where a hot pot of tea still sat from supper, and poured himself a cup before moving to sit by the fire. Dwalin and Thorin were still up, but were deep in quiet conversation and paid the Hobbit little mind. Bilbo picked up the book he had found yesterday and settled in to read, until he was interrupted by Thorin laying a hand on his shoulder.

"You should be sleeping, Master Baggins," the Dwarf remarked softly.

Bilbo realized that he'd been reading for some time, for the fire had died low and Dwalin was snoring away on his bed. He looked back at Thorin in the gloom, observing the play of shadows over his face. "I will retire shortly, I couldn't sleep, restless I suppose. Reading helps wear my mind out," Bilbo replied, equally quiet. He sincerely hoped the dark would mask the exhaustion in his face, though there would be no hiding it from his voice.

Thorin's hand disappeared from his shoulder and went to Bilbo's chin, tilting his face fully toward Thorin, who peered at the Hobbit with a critical eye. "I can't say I've ever heard of a Hobbit feeling restless. You've not been sleeping, are you ill?" the more Thorin studied him, the more concerned he appeared, until Bilbo turned away to gaze at the embers of the fire.

"I am well enough. I-" Bilbo paused, searching for something to say, "The reading seems to be helping, I will return to my bed soon."

Thorin studied him a few minutes more before replying, "Very well. We will be remaining here for a few days more, try and get what sleep you can," he bid Bilbo a goodnight, which was returned, before retiring to the little bedroom set aside for his use. Bilbo sighed and returned to his book, fully prepared to wait out the night.

\---

He jerked awake with a gasp, a cry of fear desperately trying to claw its way out of his throat. Bilbo shot to his feet in agitation; breathing hard, sweating, and nearly every muscle shaking with adrenaline. He paced back and forth a few times, but the confusion and tension weren't dissipating. Eyes wide, he did his customary head-count of the Company when overcome by the nightmares. Twelve Dwarrows, one Wizard; all asleep. Bilbo crept silently towards the door separating Thorin's room, and slowly inched it open with a held breath. He slipped through the gap and looked for Thorin's form among the sheets. There was no chance of containing the gasp when he realized the bed was vacant; the Dwarf wasn't there.

"Master Baggins?" Bilbo's head shot around at the voice, to see Thorin sitting in the chair in the corner. When he registered the clear distress from the Hobbit, he rose and slowly - cautiously - moved towards him. "Bilbo? What is it? What's wrong?" Only then did Bilbo actually remember to breathe, and realized how he must appear to Thorin. The threads of his self-control were rapidly fraying and slipping between his fingers.

Thorin closed in, hands coming up to brace Bilbo's shoulders. "What's wrong, Bilbo?" he repeated softly, noting the tremors that still ran along the Hobbits frame.

"I-" Bilbo tried to respond, but his voice froze in his throat. He grasped Thorin's arm and squeezed his eyes shut against the frustrated tears trying to leak out, shaking his head. Thorin stepped forward and pulled Bilbo into his arms, holding the shaking Hobbit as he exhaled raggedly. Bilbo's arms came around Thorin's back and he held on as if his life depended on it, his face buried in the Dwarf's broad chest. Thorin stroked calming circles along his back in response to the tightening arms around his waist, and eventually the tremors began to subside.

"I keep having the same nightmare," Bilbo said, deciding he owed the Dwarf some explanation for practically breaking down in his arms in the middle of the night.

Thorin exhaled softly. "Of the battle?" he asked as Bilbo sniffled a little, getting his breathing back to normal.

Bilbo nodded, rubbing his forehead along the soft nightshirt. "I couldn't save you," he whispered, arms once again tightening around Thorin, whose bearded chin came to rest atop Bilbo's head.

"But you did save me," the Dwarf said lowly, "I am alive, and our quest is still alive, thanks to you. I must confess, Bilbo, I have not been that afraid in quite some time. When I regained consciousness, my last memory was you leaping at an enraged orc, and to not know your fate... I was terrified of the possibility that you, Child of the Kindly West, who did not even want to go on this journey, had sacrificed yourself to keep it going."

"Foolish Dwarf. If you hadn't charged in and left all sense in that tree you wouldn't have needed rescuing," Bilbo grumbled, which prompted a chuckle from above him. Now that he was certain of the Company's safety the weariness that had plagued him for days was returning. His shoulders sagged.

"When did you last sleep, Bilbo?" Thorin asked as the Hobbit leaned on him more and more.

"Hmm, well the last few nights I've probably been asleep for an hour or so before I start dreaming, but I can never get back to sleep afterward. I suppose I haven't slept through the night since before encountering the Stone Giants," Bilbo replied, lifting his head and straightening up again. He hadn't even realized he'd been leaning into Thorin's solid weight. The Dwarf's presence was... comforting. He looked up and saw Thorin's eyebrows were currently meeting his hairline.

"If you've had such trouble sleeping every night you should have told somebody! I'm sure Oin would have given you a sleeping draught," Thorin said. He started tugging Bilbo with him as he backed up.

"With what?" Bilbo asked as he stepped forward, "nearly all our supplies were lost. There was no point in worrying everyone else when there was nothing to be done. Thorin, what? I've assured myself that you are, in fact, alive, I'll go back outside and you should sleep."

Thorin kept pulling Bilbo after him, toward the bed. "While you do what, exactly? Lay out there until the nightmare comes again, then stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night? Just come here and lie with me, perhaps my presence will help. Is it not worth a try?" Thorin finished in exasperation, as Bilbo kept hesitating.

"Oh very well. I suppose I can't lose more sleep in here than I would on my own mattress," Bilbo grouched. Really though, he was grateful. He's always had trouble asking for help; more the type to go it alone and hope for the best. He climbed on the bed after Thorin, but again hesitated; not sure what the Dwarf had in mind, watching as he blew out most of the candles that had cast a dim light in the room and leaving one on the bedside table. Thorin lay on his back and motioned Bilbo forward, "Come here," he said softly.

Bilbo crawled forward and lay with his front plastered on Thorin's side, until Thorin hauled him completely on top of the Dwarf, ending up on his side. With a huff Bilbo tucked his knees up, and found himself loosely grasping Thorin's nightshirt as arms once again encircled the Hobbit.

Thorin began humming, hoping to lull Bilbo into a peaceful slumber.

Bilbo let out a soft sigh; this really was rather lovely. Even without the tunic and furs and armor, the Dwarf smelled of wood-smoke, pipe weed, and leather. Thorin's humming buzzed pleasantly in his ears, and thrummed in the chest underneath him along with the steady beat of his heart. The heavy and solid arms around him were immensely comforting, and he lay there for a time, simply enjoying the peace.

Yet still Bilbo could find no sleep.

Thorin must have noticed this; Bilbo remained tense and his breaths steady, not slowing as they should for sleep. It had been several nights of repetitive nightmares and interrupted sleep, which Bilbo had begun to subconsciously fear and avoid. "Just breathe, deep and slow," Thorin murmured. He began to sing then the tale of Durin and a time long past, softly stroking Bilbo's hip with a thumb.

_The world was young, the mountains green,_   
_No stain yet on the Moon was seen,_

_No words were laid on stream or stone,_

_When Durin woke and walked along._

_He named he nameless hills and dales;_

_He drank from yet untasted wells;_

_He stopped and looked in Mirrormere,_

_And saw a crown of stars appear,_

_As gems upon a silver thread,_

_Above the shadow of his head._

_The world was fair, the mountains tall,_

_In Elder Days before the fall_

_Of mighty kings in Nargothrond_

_And Gondolin, who now beyond_

_The Western Seas have passed away._

_The world was fair in Durin's Day._

 

_A King he was on carven throne_

_In many-pillared halls of stone_

_With golden roof and silver floor,_

_And runes of power upon the door._

_The light of sun and star and moon_

_In shining lamps of crystal hewn_

_Undimmed by cloud or shade of night_

_There shown for ever fair and bright._

 

_There hammer on the anvil smote,_

_There chisel clove, and graver wrote;_

_There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;_

_The delver mined, the mason built._

_There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,_

_And metal wrought like fishes' mail,_

_Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,_

_And shining spears were laid in hoard._

_Unwearied then were Durin's folk;_

_Beneath the mountain music woke:_

_The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,_

_And at the gates the trumpets rang._

 

_The world is gray, the mountains old,_

_The forge's fire is ashen-cold;_

_No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:_

_The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;_

_The shadow lies upon his tomb_

_In Moria, in Kazad-dum._

_But still the sunken stars appear_

_In dark and windless Mirrormere;_

_There lies his crown in water deep._

_Till Durin wakes again from sleep._

Bilbo realized at some point that Thorin had switched to Khuzdul as he continued to sing, the strange and secret language of the Dwarves. The cadence, combined with Thorin's rich voice, was a soothing backdrop to Bilbo's muddled thoughts, and he finally found himself relaxing. His eyes closed and he was not assaulted with the images he had become too-familiar with. His body relaxed as a result; muscles eased of residual tension and limbs going limp.

Bilbo hadn't even realized he had dozed off until his brain registered the noise outside the window; heavy steps, a light scratching at the outer wall and what sounded like the deep inhales of a large animal scenting. The Hobbit lifted his head slightly to look, heart rate picking up again, as the singing in his ear stopped. "It is unlikely that the wargs and orcs would have made it this far into Beorn's lands," Thorin whispered as he slid out from under Bilbo and off the bed. Bilbo sat up on the bed feeling rather dazed and confused, as Thorin went to the window and peeked out behind the curtain. He heard the Dwarf let out a slow breath. "Bears. Whether the natural sort or Beorn's kin, I do not know. I doubt that they will bother us though," he continued, watching for a few seconds more before quietly returning to the bed. Bilbo merely blinked at him, drawing a slight smile from Thorin as he climbed back in the bed, and put out the last candle - when had it burned so low? Bilbo wondered - that was still casting a weak glow.

Bilbo allowed himself to be coaxed under the sheets, lying with the length of his body against Thorin, who placed a hand over Bilbo's spine and slowly stroked down the length of the Hobbit's back. Exhaling heavily, it didn't take long for him to return to the same languid state as before, and as the weak gray light of dawn grew, Bilbo finally succumbed to a deep and undisturbed sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been thinking of adding a second chapter for a while.. then it took me forever to actually write it cuz I'm a slow-ass writer. Still kind of feels disjointed to me.. but oh well. Give a shout if you spot any mistakes.

 

Bilbo stood on the battlements of Erebor, overlooking the devastation down in the valley. The Battle of Five Armies - as it was now being called;  frankly the Hobbit didn't understand why people seemed to think the devastation was something to be praised, to be given the distinction of a name - had ended the week  before . 

His Dwarves had survived, though from what he'd heard it was a close call. Something had struck him after reaching Ravenhill, and by the time he awoke the battle was already over. Dwalin had said Fili, Kili, and Thorin were all gravely injured from their fight with Azog and Bolg, and Bilbo got the impression from what wasn't said that it was entirely luck that saved them. Now, all three were well on their way to recovery.

Bilbo heard steps approaching from behind, and turned to see Balin stepping out from the hallway. He made for the Hobbit as soon as he noticed him standing there, "Ah, Bilbo, good morning. Just the Hobbit I was hoping to find," he greeted.

"Morning, Balin," Bilbo responded, "What is it?"

Balin smiled, his eyes holding no small amount of pleased relief, "Thorin is up and out of bed, and has decided to commence meetings with Dain, Bard, and Thranduil. He has also requested your presence during these meetings," he said, gesturing for Bilbo to follow him back into the mountain.

"Why would he want me there? I'm just a simple Hobbit, I have no experience dealing with kings or politics of any sort," Bilbo asked, genuinely confused. Part of him was pleased to be included, and he hoped he could help, but he really wasn't sure what he could offer.

Balin sent him a knowing look, and his voice was very much amused as he replied, "I think it was decided it would be a good idea to have an outside opinion, and it is also my hope that your being there will help keep the pissing-matches to a minimum." 

"Oh," he said, "Well I will try to help however I can."

The meeting went about as well as could be expected. That is to say, they got nowhere. Thorin, Balin, and Fili were representing Erebor; Dain had himself and two generals from the Iron Hills; Bard had two others from Esgaroth-now-Dale;Thranduil was accompanied by his son and another, unknown elf; and then Bilbo and surprisingly, Gandalf. 

Everyone had agreed that the first order of business must be the proper care of the dead, but after that nobody could agree on what action to take. Both Erebor and Dale were in ruins and would need aid in the repairs. Dain had already sent a portion of his contingent back to the Iron Hills, for it had been left near-defenseless in his rush to support Thorin. What Dwarrows remained would be employed for the clean up and rebuilding efforts, and all three parties argued vociferously over where the bulk of the workers should be sent. Thranduil just seemed greatly amused, and Gandalf looked exasperated to say the least. Bilbo felt slightly overwhelmed and out of place, and didn't end up saying much for the duration of the meeting.

After several hours, Balin, Bilbo and Gandalf all began to notice that Thorin and Fili were both tiring and pained from their injuries. "Why don't we call it a day," Balin interjected, "We could all use some food and a break to clear our heads. We can reconvene tomorrow." 

The others all agreed, and Bilbo followed the Dwarrows out into the hall; Thorin and Balin were still talking with Dain, though it appeared to be a more light-hearted discussion than politics. As soon as they were out of the room Fili turned to him, "Bilbo, will you come take lunch with us?" he still looked exhausted, but also openly hopeful. 

Bilbo went over to join him in trailing behind Balin, Thorin and Dain, who were already making their way toward the common living space shared by the Company. "I'd be happy to Fili," he said, falling into step beside the Prince. 

Arriving at the common room, Bilbo was surprised to find it mostly empty; only Kili was there, waiting for his brother and uncle.  He must have noticed the look on Bilbo's face, for he piped up: "Everyone else has finished their meal and resumed their tasks for the day. At this point it's closer to your 'tea' than actual lunch!" He finished off with a grin as Bilbo's stomach protested audibly at the mention of food. 

"I hadn't realized it was so late already," Bilbo replied as they took their seats. Thorin, Fili, Dain and Bilbo wasted no time with small talk as they loaded up their plates with whatever was in reach. Kili kept them entertained with the goings-on in the mountain from during their meetings (undoubtedly exaggerated) as they ate their fill. 

As they all finished eating, Dain leaned back in his seat and sent an eager look to Thorin. "So, cousin, I've heard rumors floating around - it seems your lot got caught up by a pack of goblins crossing the mountains?" He cocked an eyebrow and a smirk ticked at his lips. It was obvious he was teasing the other Dwarf while also fishing for gossip - Dwarrows were awful gossip-mongers. 

"It wasn't a pack, Dain, more like a city," Thorin replied with a roll of his eyes. He didn't seem prepared to elaborate, but Dain just continued to gaze at him expectantly. Eventually the king let out an exasperated huff, before delving into the tale. 

Thorin started off by briefly explaining the situation after their encounter with the stone giants and how they ended up in the cave-turned-doorstep for Goblintown, fell through the trap-door to what felt like the bottom of the mountain, and were promptly surrounded by the ugly, stinking creatures. As Bilbo listened, he realized precisely where he had been separated from the Dwarrows, and was shocked to hear all that he had missed. Things had been pretty frantic for most of the journey and the Company had been too busy dealing with whatever current crisis to go over what had already happened. Plus Bilbo just plain forgot to ask about it. 

When it came to Gandalf arriving and the Company fighting their way through the hoards of goblins, Dain turned to Bilbo, asking "How did you fare during all this fighting?"

"Oh!" Bilbo realized with some surprise that Dain hadn't yet realized his absence from the story. "I wasn't with the rest of the Company for that particular mess," he shot Thorin a significant glance, "I had snuck out shortly after they corralled us. I nearly made it away, but there was a single straggler that caught up to me. We fought and we both ended up tumbling off the cliff edge. I was fortunate enough to land on a large pile of mushrooms. The goblin was not so fortunate," Bilbo finished more quietly, recalling the unpleasant memory of the creature Gollum. 

The Hobbit shared a grim look with his Dwarven companions. Thorin, Fili and Kili were all more or less aware of what Bilbo had encountered. After the necessity of the ring in Thranduil's halls, he had briefly explained the encounter with Gollum and the magic ring he found. Bilbo didn't really want the knowledge spread around though, so he did not elaborate any more of the story, and Thorin, Fili and Kili seemed to pick up on that. 

"Anyways, I found Thorin and the Company again on the mountainside, just outside the goblin tunnels. I actually hadn't heard what had happened in between," Bilbo concluded. Thankfully, Dain seemed willing enough to accept that. 

Thorin picked up where he'd left off, and continued the tale until the battle with Azog and rescue with the help of the Eagles.  Once finished, Dain glanced between those present.

"If I didn't know all of you, I would think that a greatly exaggerated tale. As it is it fits right in with what I've heard of the rest of the Quest. It's a bloody miracle the entire Company even made it to the mountain," he said with a shake of his head. 

Thorin huffed a short laugh in response, "There were plenty of times we nearly didn't. I think we only managed it by all staying together. If any one of us had fallen, chances are the Quest would have failed," he said with a look to Fili, Kili, Balin and Bilbo. "In any case, now that we are here there is an immeasurable amount of work to do if we are to restore Erebor. I will return to my study," he said as they all stood to leave. 

Bilbo planned to check in with Bombur; at least in the kitchens he could lend a hand. As he followed the Dwarrows out into the hall, he overheard Balin quietly speaking to (chastising?) Thorin behind him. 

"Thorin you should take some time to rest - you're still recovering from the battle. It is perfectly reasonable to take time to heal, so as NOT to work yourself to death."

"You know full well Balin, that I could not sleep even if I wished it. There's no sense in wasting time..." The conversation faded as Bilbo walked out of hearing range. He did not turn around to look, but he could perfectly imagine Balin's exasperated worry in response to Thorin's comment.  Bilbo resolved to think on this knowledge - not sure what would be keeping the King from sleeping, or what a Hobbit could possibly do to help; but wanting to help somehow.

Bilbo climbed the winding stone stair in silence. It had taken him a bit of wandering, but he'd found a secluded spot that made a nice hideaway. He suspected it was connected to the system of ledges and roosts used for the raven messengers of Erebor, but currently it dead-ended at a single ledge on the west side of the mountain. It was a comfortable enough place to get some fresh air and peace and quiet - far less populated than the battlements over the main gate. 

Only, today, it seemed it was populated after all. 

"Bilbo! How on earth did you know I was up here?" Thorin exclaimed, no small degree of surprise in his voice and on his face. 

The Hobbit had startled slightly at the sound of his name. "Oh! I actually didn't know you were here Thorin," Bilbo paused, realizing that the Dwarf was probably up here for the same reason he was. "I'll just go, sorry to disturb you." He turned to leave, but Thorin stopped him with a word.

"No, no, that's alright; stay. I came up here to escape from Balin and steal a few minutes to myself, but I wouldn't mind company when that company has no demands on myself or my time," he said with a slightly sheepish look. Bilbo found it rather comical that Thorin was embarrassed about being caught seeking time for himself. He may be King (though Bilbo often forgot it) but he was still just a Dwarf. It seemed like Thorin himself forgot this little fact often enough - it was a wonder he hadn't worked himself to death yet. He was visibly exhausted; clearly he still wasn't sleeping well. 

Bilbo acquiesced with a nod, and moved to sit next to the Dwarf in the alcove facing the edge. The view was really spectacular; they could just see the edge of Dale and the River Running around the edge of mountain, the height of Ravenhill before them, and a bare hint of the vast expanse of Mirkwood was visible on the horizon, far to the west. The Hobbit let his mind wander, imagining the wall of the Misty Mountains past the dark forest; the Valley of Imladris on the other side; and lush, green lands beyond.

"I used to sit out here as a young lad," Thorin's voice interrupted the quiet, and Bilbo let his daydream slide away as he focused on the Dwarf next to him.He hesitated, seeming unsure about what he was going to say. 

Bilbo had noticed a change in Thorin since he recovered from the gold-sickness. Or at least, there was a change in Thorin when he was with Bilbo; he seemed more willing to share his thoughts, more open. He still kept things to himself around the others, as before, but Bilbo wondered if this was the Dwarf's way of trying to make amends, or if he just felt more comfortable sharing with Bilbo than any of his Dwarrows (which was a staggering thought to say the least). 

"Oh?" Bilbo prompted while Thorin chewed on his lip and stared off into the distance. 

"I never wanted to be king," he intoned softly, "From the moment of my birth it was my destiny, and I was reminded everyday of the weight that would forever rest on me. I was always jealous of my siblings - though I did not love them any less for it - and their relative freedom. I would run up here as a child to hide from all the adults and my duties, selfishly wanting to do only what I wanted."

Bilbo watched his face with surprise - kingship was always something he assumed Thorin had wanted. "I don't know much about how royalty works, let alone Dwarven royalty - could you not have passed it to one of your siblings?" he asked.

Thorin met his gaze, happy to explain. "Only under extreme circumstances. It is almost unheard of, and therefore would have been extremely difficult for me to abdicate and live. I would have certainly been banished at least, if not outright killed," at Bilbo's shocked look, he continued, "As I said, it's nearly unheard of, and considered taboo; the throne will normally only pass through death. I did consider running away once or twice, but eventually dismissed the idea when I grew older and saw how severe a crime it would be and the impact it would have on my family. 

Then Smaug came and drove us out, and things were so far from how I'd imagined they would be. We wandered for near half a century, before my grandfather attempted to retake Moria, and suddenly I was a crownless king; leader of a homeless people. The training I had received in leadership was barely sufficient; being intended for the rule of Erebor and only a small percentage of what I would have received otherwise. Instead I was responsible for keeping alive a troupe of beggars in exile. My concerns were not the large-scale management of a kingdom: defending our lands, running the mines, managing the coffers. They were scrounging for food, bartering for shelter, and seeking work enough to support our lives," the Dwarf was staring at the floor, lost in memory. 

"But you found a home in the Blue Mountains, did you not? You established a colony?" Bilbo reminded him. He had heard something of the colony from Balin, but didn't know many details.

"We did," Thorin replied with a smile, "It took many years of hard work, but eventually we had made a good life there. For a long time I thought it would be enough - that the feeling of not belonging, of being out of place, would fade. Many of the surviving Dwarrows seemed very happy there; they found or created work for themselves, started families, established ties and settled down," he paused, and Bilbo could see he was deep in his memories, a wistful and faraway look on his face. To Bilbo it looked a little bittersweet. 

"Why did you come back then?" Bilbo asked softly. 

Thorin's eyes refocused on Bilbo with a wry smile. "I thought it would be enough. But eventually I began to realize that it wasn't, and probably never would be. The colony was never... it was never home for me. It- it never felt the same," the Dwarf was growing frustrated with his inability to express the feeling that made him leave the west.

"I think I understand. I still consider the Shire my home, even though it never felt completely right ," Bilbo said after a thoughtful pause. "Is that what's preventing you from sleeping?" He asked, trying to keep his voice and his expression neutral; innocent. 

"Have you been eavesdropping, Master Burglar?" Thorin asked with a playful smirk. 

Bilbo felt his face grow warm. "Well it's not like you and Balin were quiet. I can't help that I have sharper ears than you lot," the Hobbit was trying to keep from getting flustered, but still Thorin laughed. 

"Peace, my friend, I was only teasing," the Dwarf responded. "In any case, my dissatisfaction with kingship is likely only one of many things that keep my mind running in circles. I'm sure I will grow accustomed to it with time." 

The conversation dwindled after that, but Bilbo sat with Thorin for a while longer until he finally conceded that it was time to return. 

Bilbo knocked on the door in front of him, and barely heard the soft, muffled noise of acknowledgement from within. He edged the door open, peering around into the room.

"Thorin?" he questioned to the room at large, slowly shuffling through.

"Here, Bilbo," came the weary response as Bilbo quietly shut the door and moved into the room. The Hobbit walked over to Thorin, who was reclined - scratch that, sprawled - on the sofa in front of the hearth, an arm slung over his eyes. "How have you been? It has been a few days since I've seen you," the Dwarf asked as Bilbo perched on the arm of the sofa next to Thorin's head. 

Bilbo cocked his head, his eyes moving from the Dwarf's face to stare into the fire crackling in the grate. "I am well, if busy. I spend most of my days helping wherever I can. I've been spending some time helping Bard with moving Men to Dale. With winter nearly upon us, they have far less protection from the elements than those of us in the mountain. It is tiring work, but it is good to be able to do something useful," he paused, taking in the Dwarf who had yet to move. Where it had first appeared to be a relaxed position on the cushions, Bilbo was now noticing the tension along the lines of Thorin's body; rigid muscle clearly visible through the fine fabric of his tunic suggesting he was not as calm as first thought. His breathing was slow and deep; deliberately so. The arm over his eyes no doubt covered the dark smudges underneath, but did not entirely conceal the deep furrow between his brows. Every now and again there was a very faint tremor that ran through his hands. "How are you?" 

"Rebuilding continues apace," Thorin responded immediately, "The negotiations with Dain are still ongoing. He is willing to let his Dwarrows from the Iron Hills stay for the winter, and trade for needed provisions, but demands-"

"Thorin, " Bilbo gently cut him off before he could well and truly get into all the details, "I want to know how you are doing," placing a hand on the Dwarf's wrist, where Bilbo could feel the strain of muscle and tendon.

Thorin sighed, and shifted his arm down over his chest. As Bilbo suspected, his eyes were surrounded by tight lines and had dark blotches underneath, and were visibly drained when he made eye contact. 

"Tired. Sore. Worried," he replied, then shut his eyes again as if embarrassed by the admission. Bilbo decided he'd had enough of the sofa arm.

Standing, he slid a hand under Thorin's neck, "Budge up for a moment. Your armrest is decidedly uncomfortable." 

The Dwarf lifted his head and shoulders off the couch with a quiet snort of amusement and Bilbo quickly sat down, so that Thorin's head rested in his lap. Bilbo idly rearranged a few strands of the Dwarf's thick hair, and noticed that his breathing seemed quieter, more natural. "What has you worried?" 

Thorin took a deep breath, and released it slowly before responding. "I fear the upcoming winter. The forges are now lit and will keep the mountain warm enough, but there is no food; for us or the Dale-Men whom I have responsibility for. Esgaroth is in ruins, and Dale cannot support herself. Erebor has never been self-sufficient in this way, relying on trade, but with Mirkwood poisoned there is no source of food readily available. I am not certain Thranduil would trade even if he could; he is very bitter over the deaths of his elves during the battle." 

Thorin was watching him as he ran through his concerns, the lines around his eyes deepening again. Bilbo wasted no time in threading his fingers through the Dwarf's hair, brushing them through and toying with the strands, trying to keep him calm. He knew he would have no useful advice, nothing he could say that wasn't empty words, but he was certainly capable of listening. "What else?" The Hobbit asked softly, knowing there was more.

"Thranduil and Bard have been paid from the Treasury (including your share, Bilbo, which is something I am still not happy about), and the remainder has been divided as per the original contract from the Quest. This has left comparatively little for the rebuilding of Erebor. If we can survive until the rest of my people travel from Ered Luin, the mines can be reopened and we will be profitable once more. If we last that long; the rest of the Dwarrows won't make the journey until spring, and likely won't arrive until late next year. 

"Above all else, I fear a return of the gold-sickness," he whispered, taking a shaky breath and his eyes fell shut again. "All my life I have sworn to myself that I would not fall; that I would resist and not succumb to its pull, and yet it took hold before I even set foot in the mountain. I am no better than my grandfather," Thorin growled out, visibly upset.

Bilbo still had his hands in the Dwarf's hair, and moved his fingers to gently press at his temples, down the sides of his face, behind his jaw and back into his hair. He slowly repeated the soothing motion. "Thorin, you are one of the most driven and determined people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You managed to rebuild your life and the lives of your people from nothing and at a very young age; and managed to convince thirteen others to follow you across the continent to willingly take on a dragon," Thorin looked up, holding his gaze, and Bilbo huffed slightly in frustration before continuing," There likely isn't anything I can say that you haven't already heard, but I will say this. I have faith that you will not let Erebor and its citizens suffer. I do not know what help I can give other than another set of hands, but I will stay for as long as you have need of me," he concluded, feeling slightly abashed, but he met Thorin's lingering look as steadily as possible. 

"Thank you," he breathed out, "That means more to me than I can say. Truly, thank you," The Dwarf covered one of Bilbo's hands with a hand of his own, turning his head to slightly press into it. He let his hand drop again  after a moment, eyes once again closed, and Bilbo was surprised to note that the previous tension was already bleeding out of him.   


"You are welcome," Bilbo whispered back, resuming his earlier motions. With fingers running through his hair, it didn't take long for Thorin to drop off into slumber, and the Hobbit gazed into the shrinking fire, lost in thought. 

After some length of time, Bilbo realized he'd been dozing off; the fire was reduced to smoldering coals and the occasional sputtering  flame. He looked down and was reluctant to disturb the Dwarf, who was deeply asleep, and decided he was much too weary himself to leave. Shifting slightly, Bilbo tipped over to lay alongside Thorin, head resting on his belly. He would undoubtedly be stiff come morning, but didn't really care at the moment. One of his hands remained tangled in Thorin's hair, and his last recollection before dropping off to sleep was the feeling of a large hand resting on his head, fingers twined in his own locks. 


End file.
